


In Which the Spring Court Gaines a (Handsome) Wingèd Nuisance

by fangirl933laluna



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Ass-Kicking, Gayness, Hilarity Ensues, Multi, Tam the Tool, tamlin getting his ass kicked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 06:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13208001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl933laluna/pseuds/fangirl933laluna
Summary: Inspired by a dream I had after reading ACOWAR for the four billionth time (which was probably inspired by fic I read about Tamlin and a pissy Illyrian warrior named Gabriel, I’m so sorry to whoever wrote it, I looked in all the Tamlin fics and COULD NOT find it. If the author is reading this, than thank you for giving me a dream that caused me to wake up laughing), this takes place at the end of ACOWAR, just after all the High Lords and humans left after the meeting wherein they discuss re-ordering the Treaty. Tamlin is the only one left in the room in Feyre’s old house with the Court of Dreams, and Elain, ever the nice one, asks Tamlin where he is going to go.Tamlin is severely affronted and refuses to look at any of them, but says, a bit ashamed-like, “Back to the Spring Court—with my mate.”Yes, he really did. Happy reading!!





	In Which the Spring Court Gaines a (Handsome) Wingèd Nuisance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fox_Katelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_Katelia/gifts).



> Merry Christas, Fox_Katelia! Sorry this is late, I've been busy. Love you forever!  
> O

I sat back in my chair, the wood groaning as my weight shifted. Rhys pried my fingers away from my aching temples, and said, “Love, it wasn’t _that_ bad.”

I looked at him, sighing. “I know. It’s just—why can’t they _see_ how good it would be? I honestly don’t understand it.”

Rhys pulled me against him, kissing the top of my head. The High Lords and humans had left, leaving just our court, and—

Tamlin.

I jerked my head upright, finally registering that my former lover and High Lord was still slumped in his seat, staring at the floor, and occasionally shooting darting glances at me, my mate and our court.  

I give an inquiring look at Rhys, and am about to say something when Elain interrupts me. “Ta… Tamlin?”

The Lord of Spring looks up, his eyes are simmering with rage, confusion, and…something else I couldn’t place.

Elain continues, her voice stronger than it had been a moment before. “Where are you going to go?”

Tamlin looks shocked—and a little bit annoyed as well.

My spine stiffens, and I reach mentally inside myself for the reserve of power, raising a shield around Elain and the others. Mor is giving Elain an incredulous look, Cassian and Azriel are exchanging glances of varying degrees of concern and hilarity, the former keeping his gaze mostly locked on Elain. Amren and Nesta both seem very tense, their spines locked like mine.

Tamlin finally huffs out a long breath, and mumbles so quietly that I can hardly hear, “Back to the Spring Court. With my mate.”

I stare at him, the whip my head back to Rhys. He shrugs, eyebrows raised and eyes twinkling with soft delight at Tamlin’s embarrassment.

“Um…who?” Elain asks softly.

Tamlin jerks his head to the door to the dining room, and a tall, winged form emerges from the cracked doorway.

The moment the warrior’s face comes into view, Cassian gives a loud snort. I recognize him a second after Rhys and the others do: he is an Illyrian from Lord Devlon’s clan, one whom Cassian is constantly having to reassign due to disobeying orders, being rude, and generally wreaking havoc wherever he goes. Cassian has come home many a night grumbling about the latest trick he’s pulled.

I glance around at my friends, trying to reign my one laughter in. Rhys has a marvelously straight face, but I can detect mental laughter through my shields. Cassian is howling, banging his fists on the floor; Elain and Nesta looked mildly shocked; Mor is cackling like a witch, tears streaming down her face as she points wordlessly between Tamlin, the Illyrian, and then cracking up again. Amren is smiling, eyes dancing with amusement, it’s Azriel whom my attention snags on.

The Shadowsinger is giggling quietly in the corner, wreathed in shadows to hide the fist that he has in his mouth to avoid making loud snorting noises and the way his shoulders are shaking uncontrollably. Yes, Azriel was actually _giggling._

Tamlin is glaring at us each in turn, while the Illyrian swaggers over to him, saying, “Tamlin, darling, we should be going.”

That’s when I lost it. I couldn’t hold it anymore, and began laughing, tears leaking out of my eyes. Rhys has to grab my chair as I almost topple it backward.

When I had mastered myself enough, I said, “Congratulations, Tamlin. Happy mating.”

Rhys nodded, murmuring his congratulations as well. Then he shot a look of amusement layered with slight disapproval to our cohorts. They quieted immediately, but even Rhys couldn’t keep Cassian from making a kissy face at Tamlin from behind his back. 

* * *

 

Back in Velaris, I smiled to myself at the time Tamlin would have, trying to control his mate. Perhaps he would learn not to control people, but to always give them a choice, as my mate had. Perhaps his mate would take over the Spring Court and leave Tamlin as his sex slave. Or perhaps…perhaps they would indeed be happy.

I hoped so.

But I still couldn’t stop letting a cackle out at the expression on Tamlin’s face when he announced it.

Mate. Ha.


End file.
